You Can't Stop the Beat
by cassierules
Summary: The daily rhythm of NCIS through Abby's eyes. Sequel to "We were all heroes".


You Can't Stop The Beat

Summary: Sequel to 'We Were All Heroes". The rhythm of NCIS through Abby's eyes. NCIS remix of "You Can't stop the Beat" from Hairspray.

Forensic Specialist Abby Scutio threw her bag on the floor of her "office", the built-in glass prison adjacent to her beautiful, shiny, lab._ First one in. Beat that, McGee!, _she thought with a wicked chuckle. This past week, she and McGee had...well, she couldn't really explain it. It was one of their things...the random stuff they did. Kind of like how Gibbs was actually nice sometimes, _not Gibbs-y? _Not that Gibbs wasn't nice, but there'd be days when he wouldn't slap Tony and would give them all the night off. That was probably the best way to explain it.

They'd been trying to beat each other to work, with McGee winning the Monday and Wednesday, leaving Abby down one with just the Tuesday. Really, the blame of it didn't lie with her, but rather her headcase neighbor whose son practiced the damn violin every morning at around two thirty, making her sleep in the (newer) soundproofed coffin and miss her alarm. She'd talked to the kid, who insisted the only reason he practiced so early was to make Conservatory auditions at five, which really wasn't so hard to believe. She also would have told Daddy he was raising the textbook killer, suppressed, pressured, and anarchic deep down, but she decided to wait until she could count on Gibbs to stand with her in the driveway.

Abby pushed her Ipod into the stereo dock, scrolling quickly through her playlists and settling on one she didn't remember putting on in a while. As a deep, steady bass shook the room, she set to work arranging her workstation for the day. _Dum-Dum Dum-Dum. _

It was a routine she could probably do with her eyes closed and her hands tied behind her back. Actually she had. _But...ugh, Leon'll probably get his creepy wife to skin me alive for breaking another one of those Mass-Specs we have on loan from Metro. Doesn't hold a candle to Major, anyway, _Abby thought, with a slight shudder as she patted her favorite piece of equipment. She had to do some minor repairs...whenever her schedule- _God Forbid the world finds the error of their ways-_ opened up enough to allow it.

The computer was booted, up, the microscopes and keyboards positioned. She opened a new box of latex gloves and laid them beside the keyboard. Stock was running low, and she really needed to truck up a box from the basement. When she got through the three spatter analyses, four ballistics tests, and a whopping seven different IP address traces, all from various agencies around town, who wanted her "expert consultation", of course. Naturally, her work had nothing to with the fact they'd all dropped in with ad folders and pay offers. _Expert consultation, my ass. _Like all the others, they just wanted her on their payroll, a trophy piece to all the other government agencies. The intrusions were annoying, distracting, and above all, threw her slightly off her game. _In this business, a little is a lot_, she remembered one of her professors saying. That had been about bone fragments and hairs, but really, it worked here too.

Music pulsed in her ears, a steady four-beat chorus with a raspy backing snare track that served to soften the harsh melody. Abby tapped her feet along with it on the floor, swiveling in her chair as she slid a box of slides and a cup of eyedroppers into their appropriate places on the table. _Da Da Da-Da Da. _Case Folders. A Sharpie. Plastic bags. Labels. Tape. Scalpel. She stood from the chair and dropped her lunch into the fridge, beside vials of expensive, precious reactants and bases, lined up by pH values alphabetically. Flicking a thin layer of dust from the stool in the corner, Abby took Bert and placed him on another chair, closer to where she'd be for most of the day, so he could watch. The song had switched to a quicker, messier bridge. Abby had been thinking of getting Bert his own smaller hippo, or maybe a girl hippo. Keeping him here all the time was getting kind of...she couldn't explain it either. Except for that Bert might have been happier in the office, away from all these people. Or she'd be happier having him there. Something like that. She caught a glance of herself in the reflection on the glass door as she checked the clock, waiting for it to hit 0830, when most of the team would be coming in and she could be up to greet them._ Or at least make sure they're not missing any chunks._

Abby cocked her head at her reflection, thinking if she should get one of those cool spiky haircuts her friend Jules, lead singer of NeoWrath had gotten to prep up for her big gig last Friday. _Pigtails are kinda old..._ she considered, but shook her bangs back in her eyes and decided they looked okay. _Well, okay enough for spending the day either in here or autopsy._

She left the song on, now back to the thumping familiarity that had made her like it in the first place, as she rushed out the doors to say a quick hi to Ducky before heading up to the bullpen. Her boots made determined thwacks against the carpet, quick and purposeful. She greeted Ducky beside his door as he put away his coat, laughed and talked with him as Palmer staggered in, muttering about his Rail Pass, like every other morning. Ducky rolled his eyes, tapping impatiently on the table as he watched Palmer with a look of slight disdain that sent a tiny shiver up Abby's back. _What'd he do wrong?_

She rode up in the elevator, with a cluster of nervous just-minted agents who were both relieved to have their Probie days behind them and relieved no one expected anything from them quite yet. _God...she looks like she's in middle school_, Abby registered, looking them over. Had Tony and McGee ever looked like that? Had she and Gibbs and Ziva? The elevator shwooshed smoothly up to each floor, Abby's being the last stop.

The bullpen was filling up, with her team all here except for Gibbs, who was usually those few minutes later the rest of them anyway. _Starbucks line,_ Abby told herself. She giggled as Tim faked anguish at the fact he'd been beat, and Tony stuck his usual zingers in between. Ziva watched them quietly from the corner, only speaking when she had the prime opportunity for a jab at both. Tony talked about his women, while Ziva would groan and ask if he'd been sure they actually were women beyond what their Twitter profiles said. McGee would have his bit of cute geeky know-how at the ready. Abby opened her mouth to speak, ready to slip back into their familiar office rhythm, the one she'd always been a part of, but lately felt like looking in a fishbowl. She had the perfect thing to say to Tony, just as Ziva took the words out of her mouth. _Since when?!_

Abby waved goodbye, mentioning something about her workload, as her boots clicked their way to the elevator. Back in the lab, she scrolled through her Ipod until she settled on a loud, brash metal song, letting the discord wash across her. Sighing, she got out the folder with pictures of spatter from a New York Major Case Unit, and boredly looked them over, scribbling the obvious marks and what she could infer from them.

Tony came mid-morning with evidence from today's case, leaving her alone with bags and boxes on the table, a promise that McGee might be in later, when he was finished interrogating the suspect. _He'd used to be in now._ Maybe it was time for a little change. Another Hippo to put Bert with. Spiky hair and a working car for Palmer. She could get her out her long-distance card. Call Eric and ask him for an opening. He had pull with the director right? Plus, Vance wouldn't be losing her completely. Abby's fingers moved to quick-search the clubs of Downtown LA, as a familiar hand clapped around her shoulder.

He held a cup of Caf-Pow in one hand, his mouth moving to form the familiar question. What did she have? As Abby turned to face him, the song long finished and only silence between them, she could almost hear his heartbeat. The pulse was slower, relaxed. Yet strong and structured, unchanging as time stretched out. He prompted her again, a small smile on his face. _Like always._ Abby's hands moved to close the search window, as she opened her mouth to explain what she'd found.

_*****'Cause the world keeps spinning  
Round and 'round  
And my heart's keeping time  
To the speed of sound  
I was lost 'til I heard the drums  
Then I found my way**_

_**'Cause you cant stop the beat*****_


End file.
